


Yard Sard

by Muffinworry



Category: Don't Hug Me I'm Scared (Short Film)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-05
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2018-03-29 05:10:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3883564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muffinworry/pseuds/Muffinworry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Money is getting low, and desperate times call for desperate measures.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yard Sard

The numbers won’t add up, no matter how long he stares at them. Harry stares hopelessly at the piles of paper scattered across the dining table. He rubs his aching eyes, and reaches for another bill.

Just to make Harry’s life better, the door slams open and Tony strides into the room waving something angrily.

“What the fuck is this?” he snaps. A packet of ramen lands in front of Harry. “You think Paige and I are going to eat this slop?”

Harry pinches the bridge of his nose. “It’s all we’ve got,” he says.

“You forgot to go to the store?” Tony’s eyes narrow. “You need a lesson in time management.”

“I went to the store,” replies Harry quietly. “That’s all we could afford.”

The man in front of him looks taken aback, or as taken aback as his natural expression of seething arrogance allows. “Put it on your cards.”

“They’re maxed out. I don’t even know how I’m going to pay off last month’s. You and Paige bought so much…” Harry’s voice trails off. You bought useless shit, he wants to scream. Power tools. Art supplies. Every crappy appliance and gadget advertised on the Home Shopping Network. A rowing machine, for fuck’s sake, which has never, to Harry’s knowledge, been used for rowing (he did once find Paige’s strangled body tied by her sash to the wheel chain). Luckily his self-preservation kicks in.

Paige puts her head around the corner of the room. She has a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and an irritated expression. “Harry dear, why is it so cold in here?” she asks. Her eyes narrow as she sees Tony.

“Because I can’t afford to run the furnace on high all day,” says Harry, his head in his hands. He knows he’s about to die horribly. At least it’ll mean a break from the endless columns of figures.

Tony and Paige are still glaring at each other. Judging from the screaming last night, they’d succeeded in killing each other, and are trying to work out whose turn is next.

“Look,” he tells them. “We’re broke. And before you ask, no, I can’t work more hours. Neither can Robin. Without more money, and soon, we’re not going to be able to stay here much longer.”

They both frown at that.

“I mean,” Harry goes on, “We could maybe find a smaller place. There are some two-bedroom flats.”

Everyone in the room knows that’s not going to happen.

“There wouldn’t be space for a workshop,” says Tony flatly.

“There wouldn’t be a garden,” adds Paige. “Or the woods out back.”

“Could…could we maybe sell some of the things you don’t use?” asks Harry. “The neighbourhood yard sale’s coming up.” He doesn’t expect them to agree, but to his surprise, there’s a long pause, then Paige nods. And if Paige agrees, Tony will too, eventually.

***

It takes them a week to get ready. Paige is a fizzing bundle of energy, sorting through closets and storage boxes to find things they can sell. She draws up eye-catching fliers, and Manny passes them out through the neighbourhood.

Saturday morning dawns bright and sunny. Every table in the house has been pressed into service, and is now standing in the driveway, covered with household goods. Harry hadn’t known what to expect, but they’ve managed to come up with some pretty good things. There are books, old DVDs, appliances, furniture and a number of power tools, carefully wiped clean of blood and put on display.

Manny is selling lemonade, courtesy of Paige. Harry had thanked her politely, pulled on some heavy-duty rubber gloves, and carefully tipped hers away, refilling the pitcher with a drink that wasn’t smoking ominously.

There’s a rustle behind him, and Harry jumps.

“It needs something,” muses Paige. She stands back and frowns thoughtfully at the collection of items. “Ah,” she says, “I know.” She skips into the house and comes back out with her latest painting; an impressionistic little landscape in oils. She puts it front and centre, and smiles proudly.

“Some lucky person is going to have the chance to buy some original art!”

Tony disappears to see what the neighbours are selling. Paige stays at their table, chatting brightly with visitors. It’s unnerving how normal they can make themselves seem when they want to.

It’s late afternoon by the time they look around and realize they’ve sold almost everything. The take isn’t bad. It won’t solve their financial problems, but it’ll keep them afloat a bit longer. Harry finishes counting up just as Tony reappears.

“We made £175.60,” says Harry. “Thank you.”

Tony looks smug.

“You see? Nothing to worry about when we’re around. Right, Paige?”

Paige doesn’t respond. Tony glances over at her. She’s sitting very still, not looking at them. The painting is still propped in front of her.

“Didn’t feel like selling it?” he asks.

Paige looks miserably down at her hands.

“Someone offered me a pound for it,” she whispers. “And then they changed their mind.”

Tony stiffens. “Who?” he hisses.

Paige gets to her feet, not meeting his eyes. “It doesn’t matter,” she says. “I’m going for a walk.” And she walks towards the woods, shoulders rounded, hugging her arms around herself.

Concern flickers across Tony’s face, so quickly Harry wonders if he actually saw it.

Harry and Robin look at each other. This is unfamiliar ground. They turn to help Manny clean up.

***

The rest of the weekend passes slowly.

Paige drifts by sometimes, a silent blur of flattened hair and colourless skin. She doesn’t eat, or drink, or talk to any of them. The door to her studio stays shut and locked. Tony spends his time in his workshop. Neither of them seems interested in Harry and his friends, which is a welcome change.

Harry spots Tony’s sword lying on the dining table, and later, propped in a corner of the living room. He could swear that it was a deliberate invitation to Paige to take a swing at him. In any case, it doesn’t work. She remains subdued and withdrawn, and the house is – words Harry thought he’d never say – too quiet.

Monday is Harry’s day off, and he spends it running errands and buying groceries with their new cash. It’s late when he gets back. He walks through the front door, shopping bags in hand, and Robin hurries over, one finger raised to his lips. He nods towards the living room, and Harry quietly puts his head around the corner. Paige is curled on the sofa, her back to them, sleeping.

Tony pushes past both of them with a steaming cup of tea. He sets it down on the table beside Paige, and places a dagger within easy reach beside it.

An hour later, the tea is cold, the dagger untouched.

Tony frowns, and looks at the unsold painting, now back hanging on the wall. He lifts it down gently and disappears with it.

When Harry goes to bed that night, Paige is nowhere to be seen, but there’s a light glowing under the door of Tony’s workshop.

***

Harry and Robin are in the kitchen when the doorbell rings the next day. A bike courier snaps gum and hands Harry a large envelope to sign for. Mystified, Harry brings it in.

Tony looks up from his coffee.

“About time,” he says, reaching for the package. A letter and a cheque fall out. Tony passes the cheque to Harry. “Here. You take care of this.”

Harry looks down at the cheque in his hands. His hands start to shake. It’s from a local antique dealer, and it’s enough money to cover six months of rent and expenses. A sentence from the letter catches his eye. “…delighted to inform you that our experts have ascertained the date of your artwork…”

Paige wanders in and stops in her tracks when she sees the letter. Looks at Tony. Looks back at the letter.

“You…”

Tony shrugs and does a poor impression of nonchalance.

“It was just a matter of aging the canvas and the paints,” he says. “You used natural pigments anyway, so I didn’t have to change anything.”

Paige doesn’t say anything. Harry sees her bite her lip for a second, and then she gives a tiny smile, and then Tony is grabbing her around the waist and pulling her into a waltz while she laughs and tries to kick him.

“I told them I might be able to get my hands on more by the same mystery artist,” he smirks. “What do you think?”

Robin catches Harry’s eye and nods towards the door, and they leave quietly. Time to deposit that cheque before anyone catches on. Harry shakes his head.

There are monsters dancing in his kitchen, and against all reason, he wants to smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Another Ice Hell Storytime challenge.


End file.
